User blog comment:Biggren/The Northern March Original/@comment-3135907-20151015060553/@comment-2246928-20151015180820

Serrano stalked across the ground as silently as the time and place allowed, his long, bushy brush trailing behind him and his green eyes locked on the patrol's quarry.

When cover presented itself, the fox used it. But the following didn't appear to be all that difficult either way... if fate proved kind, those hares would be his prisoners soon.

And all too happy to answer any questions he might have...